


Murder she Wrote

by wellthizizdeprezzing



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Eve writes stories, F/F, Writer AU, villanelle is a supportive girlfriend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellthizizdeprezzing/pseuds/wellthizizdeprezzing
Summary: Eve is a writer whose struggling to write accurate details for her crime novel. Her girlfriend Villanelle, offers to help her by doing some.....'research'.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 9
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I was inspired by a tumblr post to write this. It just screamed Villaneve. I can't find the post but for the sake of not spoiling plot, I'll relegate to explaining the post prompt after I finish this story.

“Ugh!” Eve growled out in complaint, as she scowled at the sheets of crumpled paper in front of her. Her wrist was sore, fingers stained with ink, and eyes blurry as she blinked at the new fresh sheet of paper in front of her for the thousandth time. It was blank, much like her mind. She just couldn't write anything, and she could feel the deadline approaching faster than a speeding train.

“What's wrong baby?” Oksana asked from where she was perched on the window sill, mug of tea in her hand and a book of Russian poetry in the other. She was staying up with Eve to keep her company, which was sweet, really. Oksana had been nothing but supporting of Eve as she undertook the frustrating journey into becoming an author.

Well, Eve technically already _was_ one. She had published three books under a fake name. But she wasn't major or anything. Which was why she was trying to break out into a less niche field. So far....it wasn't working as well for her. She had trouble writing what she wanted because so much research was required.

“It's just....this scene!” Eve said with exasperation. She took the thick rimmed glasses off of her face and rubbed her eyes. She went to go take a swig of her coffee but it was empty. Maybe she should brew another cup? She had to stay up until she wrote something at least. “I knew writing a crime thriller wouldn't be easy but I just realized I have no idea how to write murder scenes! And they're pretty much the crux of this genre. Maybe I should just call my editor and tell him I can't do this anymore-”

“Don't,” Oksana had like a ghost come up behind Eve, putting a hand on Eve's which had grabbed the phone in bitter disappointment. “This is your chance to make it big. Your editor said there is a demand for crime thrillers. If you write a good book then you can make it to the top.”

“But I don't know if I can write a good book. I don't have any experience, and I'm too damn afraid to google the stuff I need for this book because of cops finding my results and thinking I'm out to murder someone.”

“You don't have to worry about that. I can help you,” Oksana said, letting go of Eve's hand when Eve finally let her phone drop to the wooden top of her desk. Eve turned in her seat so she could see Oksana more. With her turtleneck and black pants and hair in a bun, Oksana looked like she had just stepped out of a business meeting in which she had crushed the opposition. There was just an air of how she carried herself. Confident, cool. And unapologetic.

It was what drew Eve to her. That Oksana knew her worth in a society where all too often women were derided and told they were never good enough, never perfect enough.

Oksana even had an air of mystery around herself. Eve didn't know too much about her and this was even after they had been girlfriends for six months. But who was Eve to care? She was just happy Oksana was into her. For too long Eve had thought her dating life was over, especially for a divorcee like her. But Oksana had been very direct when coming after Eve, making her intentions and attractions for her well known. And Eve had been unable to resist having a chance at happiness.

“What do you mean?” Eve asked.

“I know someone who has extensive knowledge on this. I could ask them.”

“Oh, no. I don't want you doing all the work. Let me talk to them-”

Oksana shook her head. “I'm afraid he only knows Russian. And he's quite peculiar with whom he talks to.”

“Oh.” Eve's excitement sank into herself.

“But it does not bother me to ask him on your behalf. Just give me a list of questions you have.”

“Right. Do you want it now, or-”

“Now would be preferable. And once you finish it, do both of us a favor and go to sleep,” Oksana said, and it wasn't an order but it was at the same time.

“I still have so much left to write-” Eve began to gripe.

“And you are of no use to yourself if you are tired,” Oksana said soothingly, stroking a hand down Eve's cheek and looking down at her. “I want you to do well on this. I enjoy your books, even the ones you think are shit. And tomorrow I shall go and speak with him and get you the answers you need. Just focus on writing other parts of the story.”

“Does this mean you are leaving the country again?” Eve asked, a twist going through her stomach at this.

“I will. My firm wants me to tie up some loose ends in Greece, and Russia is not too far away,” Oksana said.

Eve felt disappointed. She had been hoping Oksana would be around for longer this time, but it seemed her work was never done. “And how long will you be?”

“Not long. Maybe a week. But I shall remember to bring you those chocolates you love so much,” she said with a light smile and leaned down to peck Eve on the forehead.

“Shouldn't you be packing? And getting some sleep?” Eve suggested because she would hate for her girlfriend to be tired because of her.

“I am always packed,” and that was true, one suitcase of Oksana's belongings always packed and ready. “And, I can sleep on the plane.” She went back to the window to continue reading her book. “Just make me the list and then go to bed, okay?”

“Will you join me?”

“Of course.”

* * *

Time seemed to drag when Oksana was gone. Eve's life was rote. Boring. She went to work at her part time job. She volunteered at her local shelter. And then she wrote. She wrote all the parts she knew, leaving those she didn't know blank, for Oksana's knowledge to fill. And then when the week was up, she drove to the airport to pick her up.

“How was your trip?” Eve asked as she drove through traffic. Oksana was lounging in the passenger seat, sucking on a pop. “Terribly boring. Men really don't know how to do things properly and then I have to go and clean up after them.”

“At least you're getting paid a lot,” Eve said, not with any resentment. She had enough from her part time job and writer's earnings to live comfortably. Oksana, was a big spender, given the opulence of her wardrobe and she had to have a high paying job to keep up that lifestyle.

“Yes, I am.” She dug into her front pocket of her dark pants and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. “I have the information you need.”

“Yes. Thank you. I appreciate it,” Eve said with a smile.

“Shall we go over it with some tea?” Oksana suggested, and they did just that when they arrived home. Eve put on some oolong tea for them and after it boiled, she dumped several lumps of sugar into her cup while she served it plain to Oksana.

Her girlfriend unfolded the pages creases and began to read off of it, translating it from Russian to English. “An ax produces a very grisly murder. Especially if the person doesn't aim the blade right the first time.”

“What do you mean?” Eve asked, scribbling down notes as Oksana talked.

“Your character in the story. They are....quite feeble. Unknowledgable about how to do such a thing. So they would be sloppy. Panicked, when they did such an act.”

Eve nodded her head. She had already informed Oksana how the story would end, who the culprit was, all those major points. Oksana was often a springboard for her ideas; helping talk them out helped her decide if they made sense or not. Because often her head was a mess of too many things, all colliding into one another. All talking at the same time.

“Your character tries to get the victim, but they hesitate. So they go for the shoulder. The ax gets stuck because it's heavy. The victim gets knocked to the floor, they scream in pain. The character pulls the blade out after fiddling with it several times, causing more pain, more blood loss. Then, they finally have the victim on the floor- let's call him Raymond, it sounds like an asshole name- and they swing the ax down more easily and finally hit the back of the neck, rendering them killed.”

Eve rubbed her chin. “An ax.....hm, very personal. That fits Adam right for this story. And the scene is graphic, but not too much. It conveys panic and debating of morals at the last moment....I like it.”

Oksana smiled. “I had hoped you would. My contact told me it would be good especially after I told him what the characters are like.”

“This is going to help my writing so much!” Eve said happily, grabbing her tea and paper and pen before disappearing into her room. A second later she emerges, still with the items in her hand and kisses Oksana on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispers, and then goes back to the room to write.


	2. Chapter 2

Eve timidly knocked on the door to their shared bedroom. Oksana was sitting by the window, mug of tea in her hand and book in her other. She was reading Crime and Punishment, in the original Russian language. She did not look up when Eve stood in the doorway, silently waiting for her girlfriend to finish reading. She tracked the way Oksana's cat-like eyes reached the bottom of the page before she closed the book and took a sip of her lukewarm tea. “What is it Eve? Did you finish writing?”

“Uh, well,” Eve nervously started, rubbing her hands together. “I was....and then I wasn't.”

Oksana arched up a brow. “Why not?” She got up, setting down her items and ready to help her girlfriend. “Writer's block?”

“In a way....I suppose,” Eve said a tad nervously.

Oksana tipped her head in the way a cat assesses curiosities. “What happened?” When Eve didn't reply right away Oksana added, “You don't have to be afraid to tell me.”

Eve sucked in a huge breath, meeting her girlfriend's eyes. “I need to write a sex scene.”

Oksana did not see the issue with this. “And you can't write it?”

“Well...no,” Eve admitted, shoulders sagging with an invisible weight that grew heavier.

“Why don't you just write a sex scene based on what we do in bed?” Oksana suggested.

“I was, actually. But the problem is....the main character has some....other interests during sex too. And I don't know how to make them realistic,” Eve trailed off, holding her breath to see what Oksana would say. The blonde's lips quirked up at the corners as she began to unbutton the blue flower chiffon shirt she had on. She knew exactly what Eve was asking for. What she needed help with.

“Bring the 'interests of the main character' into bed and I'll help you.”

Eve is momentarily distracted by the revealing of so much smooth skin but she shakes herself free of the spell Oksana puts her under. “I...don't know if you'll like it.”

Oksana always finds it adorable when Eve speaks in hesitations. It means she's nervous. Shy. But extremely caring in this moment. “What is it?” Eve rarely says that about their bedroom activities. They've tried many things, some bordering on pain. What could Eve be suggesting that would make Oksana uncomfortable. Unless it's the sharing of emotions or backstory, then little makes Oksana uncomfortable. She actually revels in discomfort sometimes. Not her own, of course.

But people can reveal so much about themselves when they are on edge and she loves picking up their little clues. “Oh..I don't know,” Eve shakes her head, her little curls bouncing. “Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe I can find someone online to do it-” she backs away but Oksana is fast, crossing the room in long strides and grabbing Eve's thin wrist before she can leave.

“Babe,” she says, as she looks down into Eve's eyes. “Just tell me. You know I don't judge.”

Eve nods her head shortly. “Right,” she breathes out, also short. She's deciding to get it over with. “It's a knife play scene.”

When Oksana doesn't say anything at first, Eve tugs to move away but Oksana is still holding her. “I knew it. It's weird. You won't do it-” Eve is muttering in self depreciation. Oksana pulls Eve's entrapped hand and places it over her heart.

“I don't hate it; can't you hear how quickly my heart is beating. I'm excited. Excited to try this for you. To help you write your novel,” she breathes out, intense.

Eve's muttering stops and she swallows heavily. “I'll get the knife,” she says and Oksana lets her leave. She winds over to the window, finishes the rest of her tea as she waits, shirt unbuttoned still. She's never done such a thing before- not with someone she cared at least. She wonders how Eve will go about this. This isn't Oksana's first time experimenting with such things but she doesn't let Eve know. Eve who was stuck in a boring vanilla marriage for over twenty years to a boring vanilla man.

When Eve comes back, it's with two knives. A butter one, and a butcher one.

“Um, I don't actually know what I'm going to do,” Eve announces suddenly, holding both knives in stabbing position. “But I did some research on how to handle these things safely and I've got the scene planned out in my head. So...um, it should be okay. Oh and safe word. Give me a safe word.”

“France,” Oksana says without much thought.

Eve looks disappointed in the choice. “Really?”

Oksana shrugs. “I don't know. I like the place. And I doubt I'll be using that word in bed.”

“Okay,” Eve nods her head briskly.

“How do you want me,” Oksana tilts her head up, getting into character.

“Um...so...all I've got is they're in the bed right now. I'm on the bottom and you're on top.”

Oksana arches her brow again. “Whose using the knives?” she asks as Eve climbs onto the bed, setting the knives down on the bedside table. Oksana slides on top of her, straddling her waist like they've done a hundred times before.

“You?” Eve questions. “The main character is sleeping with the villain before they know they're the main villain in the story.”

“And how will I know how to use the knives?” Oksana poises playfully.

“Because I have an educational video for you to watch?” Eve questions once more and scoots up her hip a little, lifting Oksana up, as Eve fetches her phone and pulls the video up. She holds it up, letting Oksana watch the video. Oksana leans in, hands on the bed cover as there is silence, only the narrator speaking.

When the video finishes, Eve puts the phone aside. “If I'm using the knives, why do I have the safe word?”

“Well, if it gets too uncomfortable for you,” Eve states.

“You won't be freaked out?” Oksana asks.

“No,” Eve says with a small laugh. “I'm the one who asked you, and I need it for research purposes.”

Oksana looks at the knives waiting for her. Shiny and clean. “Why bring a butter knife? I can't cut anything.”

“For practice,” Eve said. “For you.”

“I think I'll just start with the butcher knife,” she said, reaching over for it. “If that's alright with you.”

Eve gives a quiet yes, biting her bottom lip. Oksana takes the knife, examines it. The video was already on things she knew. But she would wait for Eve to instruct her further. “Okay, so I, the big bad villain you don't know is the villain, am holding a knife. Having you pinned to the bed underneath me. Now what do I do?”

Eve pauses, thinks. Her hands are cradling Oksana's hips. “Um, you cut my clothes off.”

Oksana lowers the knife and can feel the sharp inhale Eve takes. “Starting with...?”

“Starting with my shirt.”

Oksana, carefully and skillfully picks up the hem of Eve's shirt and slices through it up to the collarbone in one fell swoop. The flimsy material drops away and the rip echoes loudly. “Now what,” she says coolly even as it's interesting watching Eve's reaction to this. “You slide the knife down my body, threatening me.”

Using the flat side, Oksana trails the cold metal down the slope of Eve's breasts, going under the underboob and hearing a surprised gasp burst from her lips. Oksana tries to keep her pleased smile small. She slides the metal up and down, careful to press the tip down over the spot above the belly button and leaning down to whisper threats into Eve's ear. “Do you know how easy it would be to cut you? If I let my hand slip and watch your body scar and stain red with your own blood?”

“But you won't,” Eve replied with confidently and Oksana couldn't tell if this was part of the plot or something that was entirely happening between them.

“But I could,” she hissed back. “Can't you feel the cold kiss of metal. Feel the snap-” at this she leaned back and in quick fluid motions, slipped the knife under the clasp of the front of Eve's bra and pulled. The bra popped, Eve's breasts spilling out. Eve gasped but didn't tell Oksana to stop. Instead, she went in the opposite direction. “Oh shit, screw the knife play, just fuck me.”

And Oksana did.

* * *

Three hours later found them lying in bed, curled around each other, exhausted from their activities. “So, did you gather enough research for your book?” Oksana asked, stifling a yawn. It was getting late. She would shower and then go to sleep.

“You know what, I think I'll scrape that scene,” Eve said.

“Why?”

“Eh, I think I was just horny when I tried to write it and anything and everything was turning me on. I don't think I'll include the knife kink either.”

Oksana gave a small breath of laughter. “Well, I'm glad we got all the horny out of you now. Think you'll be able to write that scene?”

“Yes,” Eve cupped Oksana's chin and leaned in to kiss her. “You've given me plenty of good material.”

“I can't wait to read your book,” Oksana said with a soft smile and watched Eve get out of bed, hurriedly tying a robe around her as she was filled with inspiration. Oksana reached over the knives to get her book and flipped open to the last page she had been on. Maybe she'll read first, then shower, and then sleep. If she stayed up long enough, she'd get a shower with Eve.

And if Oksana had to admit, that was her favorite kink.


	3. Chapter 3

Eve didn't like wearing dresses. She felt too exposed in them. And like she couldn't move in them well enough. It was why she was tugging down her gown's top compulsively, trying to get it to behave.

“Are you okay, Eve?” Oksana asks, striding up to Eve with two glasses of champagne in her hands. She's dressed smartly. In all black, with a lace top underneath tastefully covering her breasts. Her hair is slicked back in a low ponytail and she has only the bare minimum of make up to enhance her natural beauty.

“I'm-fine,” she hesitates before speaking as her ankle gives a throb of pain. She hates heels too. They always hurt and frankly, she lacks the grace to wear them. Unlike Oksana who she once saw running in heels like it was nothing. She gratefully takes the glass Oksana offers her and gulps a fifth down.

“Is it the dress? Because you look amazing in it,” Oksana breathes, leaning down into Eve's ear to say this. And she does look good. The blue is striking on her and her hair is up, pinned into a nice bun while two long earrings dangle down to complete the look. “But I also know you look amazing out of it.”

Eve can feel that familiar flush rising up her chest at Oksana's praise.

“Stop that,” she chides playfully. “We're at a gala.”

“A gala celebrating you. And what better way to celebrate than in bed,” Oksana says with a wink but pulls back, giving the tension crackling in the air some rest. They'll have to keep their hands to themselves for now.

“It's not even for me. It's just another event to make the company look like it cares for it's employees,” Eve says cynically.

Oksana twirls the stem of her glass, still full, looking around the event thoughtfully. It's in a nice venue. High ceiling, arched windows that reflect the night outside. Balloons of gold and white, and tables covered in nice clothe. A buffet against one wall and a stage on the other on which all the announcements will be made. It's only eight pm but it feels like there is no time in this place. Like it's held captive in this singular moment. Oksana's eyes scan the crowd warily and she thins her lips when she spots something. Or better yet, someone.

“But, you should feel good about yourself,” she turns her attention to Eve who is fixing her slipping dress once more and glaring at the stage like it personally did something to her. “This event is only for those who sold a lot of books this year. And yours did, Eve. You sold a million copies in just three months!” She raises her glass in a toast, trying to cheer Eve up, who is in an unfashionably sour mood. Oksana knows sex is a surefire way to fix that pout off of those dainty lips, but they can't very well go at it on the dance floor, no matter how much Oksana wouldn't mind.

A small glimmer of a reluctant smile crosses Eve's mouth. She raises her now empty glass and knocks it against Oksana's. “I did sell a lot of books. Who knew so many people were interested in murder.”

“You did write very realistic scenes. But I think they liked the way you got into the characters heads. Really understood their psyches,” Oksana commented. “I know I liked it a lot. Very good writing.” She had read the book twice and loved every page of it. Eve had done a good job on it, better than she had given herself credit for.

“Thank you. I'm shocked too. I honestly did not expect it to be this popular,” Eve chuckled to herself.

“Should we get a table? They'll start handing out awards and stuff,” Oksana suggested, guiding them back to a half empty table.

“I don't think I'll win anything,” Eve shook her head, an errant curl falling out. Oksana tucked it back in before Eve could.

“Don't say that about yourself. I'm sure you'll win many awards.”

Eve rolls her eyes at this but doesn't try to argue any further. They sit down and wait for the show to start. Oksana's eyes scan the crowd, now slowly sipping her drink. Eve notices Oksana's slightly pent up state, despite her levity in her tone.

She grasps her by the knee cap, drawing Oksana's attention to her from where it had been focused on one corner of the room. Eve tried to see what was there, but her age was catching up to her because she could not make out what it was. “Are you okay?” she asked, mimicking Oksana's earlier question of the night.

“I'm fine,” Oksana gives a lazy smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. “Just...impatient to get the night going so I can go back home and have you in bed to enjoy.”

The ceremony master gets up on stage and the talking of the crowd quiets down a bit, Eve listening to his words. Oksana listens with half a mind before she gets up, mumbling about getting refreshments and heads off to the buffet table.

The man blathers on and Eve claps along with his words, laughing at some of his jokes. She too can't wait to be home, if only to get out this tight dress and to be wrapped in Oksana's warm embrace. By the way, where is she? It's been ten minutes. Getting a drink shouldn't take this long. Unless she slipped out to the bathroom?

Eve sighs and settles herself in, watching several awards be given out to a couple of white male authors. She tries to not be bitter about this, she does, but she can't help it. Authors like her will always get overlooked.

What's so good about their books that isn't about hers?

As she contemplates getting up to find Oksana, and leaving as it's been thirty minutes now, and the short award ceremony is almost over and she wants to go home, Oksana shows up, a bit harried looking. Her hair is a bit mussed up and she's breathing heavily. But she's got the glasses in her hand, full of alcohol.

“Where were you?” Eve asks, concerned.

“Got caught up with some very handsy old man,” Oksana says, grimacing. “I had to fend him off. He talked my ear off. But, I hope I didn't miss too much?”

Eve takes the glass and gulps it down. “No, you didn't miss much. I didn't win anything, so,” she shrugs, helplessly.

They end up going home not soon after, and there Oksana quietly peels off of Eve's dress and takes her to bed. With practiced ease, she and Eve wordlessly enjoy each other, over and over again, their bed quaking with each motion.

And if Eve wants to be a bit rough tonight to release some pent up aggravations, Oksana doesn't mind. When they finish, Oksana and Eve lay panting side by side, cuddling. It's moments like these that they both find too sweet for words, so they never mention it, never mention how just holding the other makes them feel so much more alive than anything else.

“You know you have to write a sequel,” Oksana mentions as she stifles a yawn. Eve has tired her out.

“Why?” Eve mumbles out, already in the reaches of sleep.

“The public will clamor for more. Especially with the cliff hanger you gave off. Adam stabbing Paradelle.”

Eve snorts. “I thought an open ending would be good.”

“No, babe, if you won't write it for them, then write it for me,” Oksana turns in, smiling at Eve.

“I guess I could write another one. But I seriously have no idea how to make a continuation. I feel like...the joy of the original won't be the same. Like it will fizzle out.”

“You're an amazing author. You can do it. And I'll help with the action scenes. Whatever you need.”

Eve hums in thought. “Maybe. But I won't write one until I'm good and ready. No point in trying to push my creativity away.”

“Of course not. I want your creativity to be good and well for this.”

They snuggled deeper into each other, Eve so grateful she had an understanding partner.

Eve wakes up to loud knocks on her door. Groaning and untangling herself reluctantly from Oksana's nice hold, she grabs a robe and puts it on her naked form, half awake as she walks downstairs, Oksana still sleeping upstairs.

She finds cops at her door. Definitely not what she was expecting when she opened the door.

“Are you Eve Polastri?” asks the one with a burly mustache.

“Um, yes, that's me,” she spits out, confused and holding her robe to herself to keep the early morning chill out.

“We're here to talk about your book 'Killing Adam'. Do you have a moment?”

“Are you...fans?” is the only thing her brain can make out. Because why else would they be here. They shake their heads, solemn.

“No, we're here to talk to you as a possible suspect in a murder crime.”

Her jaw drops open. “What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Adam is the opposite of Eve, and Paradelle is the opposite of a Villanelle. So Killing Adam is just my in-universe parody of Killing Eve.


End file.
